Darkness Rising
by Dreams2Paper11
Summary: After the Dan incident, Danny refused to go with Vlad and opted instead to become a runaway. Now, while evading detection, who will find him first? Voldemort or Hogwarts? Can he even make the right choices with Dan's voice whispering in his ear?Not slash
1. Prologue

**Hey guys! I know I'm writing a teen titans/ Danny phantom crossover right now, but I had to get this off my chest. Is it cliché? Slightly, depends on how you look at it. Is Danny a cold jerk? Heck yeah. Fanfiction and all its users, I present to you: Darkness Rising!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Edit**: **Forgotten Memories pointed out that the formatting was all wrong. Sorry about that. D: I actually wrote this whole story so far (I****'****m like, already five chapters into it in my laptop) about a year ago, and my grammar has dramatically improved since then. Therefore, there might be a lot of mistakes. I****'****ll try to find them and edit this piece as I go along, so bear with me. **

Prologue: **Present Time**

Dumbledore hummed quietly to himself as he padded down the dark hall. It was nighttime; around one in the morning and Dumbledore had found himself unable to fall asleep. So, he did what he usually did when he felt restless.

He went to get some hot chocolate.

The corridors of the vast castle were silent and the air was still, with a slight October chill penetrating the thick stone-walls of the fortress-like school. The torches affixed to the walls had begun to die down, their small orange flames guttering quietly, casting flickering, dancing shadows over the floors. It was in this unnatural, sputtering light that the secret entrance to the kitchens came into sight. Suddenly, an icy coldness swept over the hallways, stirring Dumbledore's clothes and hair. The flames wavered and then extinguished in their brackets with a quiet hiss. Dumbledore had grabbed his robe, drawing it closer to himself, when he felt a presence and everything seemed to slow to a stop.

A second later, or maybe longer, Dumbledore felt something heavy thump around his neck. He looked down, surprised to see a medallion in the shape of a gear with the letters "CW" embossed on it resting against his beard. He looked up quickly. What could have caused this unnatural chill to just sweep over this particular area of the castle? Dumbledore's eyes widened at the sight before him. A being radiating immense power floated majestically in front of him, a light blue mist coiling around the figure's lower half and slowly fading away into oblivion. Dumbledore's first thought was 'ghost'. But this ghost had color, and looked oddly tangible. Hs skin was pale blue, and his chin was pointed. His eyes were angled elegantly and an intimidating crimson color. A jagged scar slashed through one of them. He wore a heavy purple cloak that pinned at the shoulder. The hood was pulled up and cast the upper half of the face in a light shadow, which the glowing red eyes seemed to have no trouble in penetrating. There was a compartment in his chest that looked like it held… a ticking clock? The staff the being gripped in his left hand was ornate and beautifully detailed. Fastened between two prongs at its tip was a small clock. But Dumbledore found that the most interesting thing about the spectre before him was that his form was constantly shifting between that of a young man, old man, and a toddler as the eerie mist continued to flow and swirl around them.

Dumbledore tensed, his hand slipping into his robe for his wand. The figure raised a hand.

"Peace, Dumbledore. I am not your enemy." His voice was deep and quiet, but emanated authority. His form shifted to an old man with a white beard that almost rivaled Dumbledore's in length.

"My name is Clockwork." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and gripped his wand tighter. Clockwork? The legendary ghost of time, only heard off in legends? Why was a being of such power visiting him? Clockwork continued. "I am here to enlighten you on a matter of utmost importance." He turned and waved his staff.

The mist seemed to swirl in on itself in a kind of whirlpool before its form solidified into a shimmering circle of water about two feet across. The surface of the beautifully clear liquid rippled and sparkled before color bled into it, assuming the image of a tall, muscular boy of around fifteen or sixteen with long black hair that ended in shaggy tips just above his shoulders. His eyes were a cold icy blue, with a haunted and cunning glitter. A thin, pink scar stretched from above his left eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. His white shirt seemed more yellow than white, looking so crinkled and worn that Dumbledore wondered if a herd of stampeding hippogriffs had run over it. The boy's faded blue jeans were tattered and ripped. He wore a long black leather coat that draped loosely around his shoulders. Dumbledore guessed that he was either a runaway or just had a really bad fashion sense.

"This is Danny." Clockwork stated calmly. Dumbledore cast an apprehensive glance at the mystical being, Clockwork, beside him. Why was he showing him a teenage boy?

"He is fifteen years old, nearly sixteen, and is a wizard." Clockwork continued, still gazing at the image intently. Dumbledore seemed surprised at that.

"What school does he go to?" He asked curiously, peering at the boy's image through his half-moon spectacles. Clockwork turned to face him.

"None. I prevented the wizarding world from finding him." Dumbledore's eyebrows jumped even higher.

"Why?" What could possibly be so special about this boy that a being with awesome power had decided to personally interfere with him? Clockwork waved his staff again, and the image rippled like a stone dropped into a pond before it changed to show the same boy, cleaner, younger, and not as haunted-looking, stepping into a hexagonal metal contraption. Dumbledore watched in horror as the teen accidentally brushed the on button on the panel inside the machine. A blinding light flashed, and the boy writhed, mouth open in a silent scream of agony, eyes wide in shock and pain. At last, the light faded, and the boy staggered out, wisps of steam rising from his burnt body. He looked different. His hair was snow white, nearly silver, his blue eyes now an electrifying neon green, and the colors of his HAZMAT suit were inverted. He collapsed limply in front of a gothic looking girl and a nerdy boy clutching a Muggle piece of technology.

Dumbledore cast a concerned glance towards Clockwork.

"What happened to him?"

Clockwork sighed sadly. "He entered the ghost portal, and before you interrupt, his parents were ghost hunters that were trying to build a portal into the realm where ghosts reside. The ghosts where he lives have a tangible form, with many powers. Sadly, many are malevolent. I myself am one of the neutral ones. When Danny pressed the switch by accident, his DNA was spliced in half. The missing portion of his DNA was replaced with that of a ghost's. He was transformed into a half-ghost hybrid."

The image changed again and showed Danny, changing from his normal appearance to that of the white-haired teen as bright rings of light separated and moved up and down his body. He leaped into the air and flew upwards effortlessly, a wide grin on his face, emerald eyes sparkling in happiness. Dumbledore gasped quietly, staring at the projected image on shock. The boy was flying without a broom!

"Danny became a superhero named Danny Phantom. He helped protect the town from malevolent ghosts, even though he was often pegged as evil from the townspeople."

The image shifted to show an eating-place called the Nasty Burger. There was debris and rubble everywhere, and the sky was an eerie, whirling green color. Dumbledore saw six people tied to the boiler of the restaurant, eyes wide in horror and mouths gagged with a strange glowing energy. Danny was fighting what looked like himself, only much older and much more muscular, with flaming white hair, glowing red eyes, and sharp, stained fangs. Dumbledore watched as the two beings traded blows, until a determined look flashed across the younger Danny's face. The boy inhaled deeply, bracing his feet on the torn pavement, and _screamed._ Green shock waves poured from his mouth, pulsing through the air and distorting it slightly, destroying everything in its path.

Dumbledore's jaw dropped, watching as cars skidded and flew back, buildings collapsed from the strain, and the already broken pavement was cracked and destroyed even more. The demonic figure was hurled back into a building, and a nearby car was lifted off the utterly destroyed road and smashed into the horrifying specter a second later. There was a moment of tense silence as the boy ended his attack and collapsed, looking exhausted, and then the evil-looking spectre stood up from the debris, a look of scornful bewilderment crossing his sickly-blue face. He said something, and Danny used the attack again, and then brought out what looked like a…thermos? He opened it, sucked the ghost into it, and turned to face the people tied to the boiler. He panicked and raced forwards, hands stretched outwards, but he tripped over a stray fragment of rubble in his path and fell heavily to the ground. Dumbledore watched, unable to look away, as the boiler exploded violently in a massive ball of fire right in front of him. He saw a piece of shrapnel, smoking hot, spin past with deadly speed and slice into the boy's face, leaving a painfully deep cut that Dumbledore recognized would be his scar later on. The boy was blown back nearly twenty feet as rubble rained down around him and flames licked greedily at anything near the wreckage.

Clockwork waved his staff again and the portal disappeared. Tears shown in Dumbledore's eyes.

"Who were they?" He whispered, his heart pounding. The look of complete horror on the boy's face…

"They were Danny's family, his best and only friends, and his teacher." Dumbledore winced in shock and shook his head, unable to speak. Clockwork continued in a voice tinged with sadness. "Danny left his town right after the event, one year ago, and has been on his own since. The boy must be found and brought to Hogwarts. His magic is strong, and with his powers, he is an incredible asset to the Order Of the Phoenix. However, if Voldemort finds him first, there will be no hope. The boy struggles with his darker side daily. You must help him, Dumbledore."

The strange mist swirled again, covering the figure's presence as his image started to fade.

"Wait!" Cried Dumbledore. "How will I find him?" The dim silhouette flickered.

"He is currently in Greensville, Virginia, U.S.A. You will find him, Dumbledore. Good luck."

The image faded, along with the mist. Dumbledore felt time speed up back to normal and the medallion around his neck disappear. He stood in shock for a bit, then shook his head and strode quickly to the dungeons, his robes whipping around him. He reached Snape's office quickly and jerked the door open. Snape was currently sitting at his desk, poring over a potion book. He glanced up sharply as Dumbledore entered, his sallow face twisting in a scowl.

"Is there a reason you burst into my chambers at such a late hour?" He growled softly. Dumbledore waved a hand.

"Severus, I have found a person who can help change this war." He stated seriously, skipping the formalities and cutting right to the point. Snape's black eyes widened, and he stood up, his chair clattering to the stone dungeon floor behind him.

"Who?"

"A boy by the name of Danny Fenton. He is a wizard, though he does not know it. A being called Clockwork appeared and told me that he hid him from the wizarding world for…certain reasons. We must recruit him and bring him to Hogwarts before Voldemort gets him, otherwise there is no hope left."

Snape's lip curled. "A boy?" He said in disgust. Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, and that is why we must bring him to Hogwarts so he can learn magic."

"How old is he?"

"Around fifteen or sixteen."

Severus blinked. "You do realize that he's missed years of magic then, right?"

"We can easily find a tutor for him."

Severus grimaced and brought out his wand. "When do we leave? He asked quietly, though reluctantly.

"Soon. I must inform the members first." Severus nodded and sat back down, slipping his wand back into his robes. Dumbledore whirled and exited though the doorway, his thoughts racing, plans formulating.

Snape sighed and rubbed his brow with his thumb. "And I thought having Potter as the chosen one was bad enough." He growled.


	2. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! I'm back with the next chapter! The reason it took so long for me to update is because I'm focusing mainly on my DP/TT crossover. Btw, for those who do read Haunted Memories, then be warned: this next chapter is going to be LONG and involve much fighting between two certain black-haired boys. (wink, wink).**

**Ahem, anyway. Thank you all for your reviews! Normally, I would respond to them, but I'm sick right now with a nasty bout of flu. No seriously, my fingers are shaking right now. Ugh. You guys are lucky I have such awesome dedication. XD. If you had any questions, I might PM you later to answer them.**

**So…disclaimer. I'm just going to pretend this disclaimer is in effect for the rest of this story, because writing it time after time gets boring. **

**I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER OR DANNY PHANTOM, no matter how much I wish it. **

**On with the story!**

Chapter 1: **One Year Earlier**

The night was cold, clear, and eerily silent. A full moon floated serenely in the black night sky, casting the landscape below in a silver pallor. Few clouds drifted across the velvet sky, their forms wispy and scattered. The air was fresh and crisp with a biting, refreshing chill, and remained undisturbed by any breeze or wind. Stars glittered across the sky as if a handful of chips of diamonds had been tossed onto black velvet.

On any other night, fourteen- year old Danny Fenton would have found it quite beautiful and would most likely have been found glued to his telescope, catching glimpses of the shining moon in it's full October glory.

However, this was not any other night.

Danny could, instead, be found in the fringes of town, where the homes grew sparser and farther apart, beginning to melt into the surrounding countryside. The paved roads faded into loosely graveled paths, and the flat land began to roll up and down gently, covered in patches of thick woodland. Currently, Danny was sitting awkwardly on the dew-brushed grass on his knees, his form hunched and miserable. His pale face was drawn and tight, dark bags casting his eyes in shadow. His raven-black hair was even messier than usual and hung in spiky chunks in front of his face, hiding his left eye. However, one could still see the angry red cut that slanted diagonally across his face, starting above his left eyebrow, skipping the eye, and reaching all the way out into the middle of his cheek. He was lucky he had closed his eyes when the hot piece of shrapnel had grazed his flesh, only leaving an intimidating scar instead of losing an eye. His slim shoulders were hunched in on himself, as if he was attempting to shield himself from the world. A ripped and torn white shirt hung loosely on his gaunt yet lightly muscled frame, and his old faded blue jeans were stained and unraveling at the hems.

A beam of moonlight illuminated the five grave markers half a meter in front of him, and with the slowness of an old and crippled man, he reached out and brushed his fingers across the smooth marble surface of the stone directly in front of him, icy blue eyes gazing desperately at the name etched deeply on the plaque of swirling black and white marble in bold bronze letters: SAM MANSON. He drew in a deep shuddering breath, body shaking slightly. "Oh, Sam…" He whispered, tracing the letters gently with his fingertip.

"I never meant for this to happen…I'm so sorry. It was my fault. If I had just been faster, I could have saved you… you could still be here with me now, and we'd be laughing and eating ultra recyclo-vegetaian junk food and playing Doomed at your house, and Tucker would say something stupid about us being lovebirds and you'd kick him, and then we'd laugh-." Danny drew in a deep shuddering breath to stop the helpless babbling.

His finger came to a stop on the last letter and he gently pressed his hand against the cool marble, seeking comfort from the stone. "But you're not here. And it's still my fault that you died. There's nothing left for me in Amity Park now, so I'm…I'm leaving. I won't stay with Vlad and risk turning into…that monster. I'm just here to say my last goodbyes."

Danny stood up slowly, feeling his cramped muscles protest at the forced movement, and shakily walked over to the first grave, which was identical to the firsts, only it read JACK FENTON. Danny drew in a deep breath, the cold air making his lungs ache and his pale face sting.

"Dad, I'm so sorry. I should have told you earlier. I should have told you that I was half ghost. I should have told you about Dan. I should have told you that Vlad Masters was also part ghost. I should have told you that you were an awesome father. And I…" He swallowed, throat aching from suppressed tears, "I should have told you how great I thought you were. Bye Dad. I'll miss you asking for fudge and cookies and acting like an overexcited puppy and never giving up on your inventions. I'll miss you being there every time I was in danger." He half-smiled, though it was devoid of any real warmth.

"I'll miss you." He held up his hand and allowed glowing particles of ice to cluster, molding into the shape of a perfect ice rose. Kneeling gently, he laid the rose on the grass in front of the marker, where it lay glittering coldly. Blinking rapidly, he stood up and stepped to the right, stopping in front of the grave that held his mother's name.

"Hey Mom. I just wanted to say thanks for loving me and raising me, even when I acted like a stupid idiot. Thanks for putting up with my moods. Thanks for being overprotective. I miss you so much, Mom." His voice cracked, but he carried on bravely. "More than you could ever know. I wish you could be here now, holding me in your arms and telling me everything is fine. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my secret. I was so scared that you and Dad would hate me for it. I realize now that you wouldn't do that, and I'm ashamed to have even thought you would do that to me. Remember when Vlad sent us that fake letter and we got stranded in the woods, and you went all ninja on those ghost experiment animals and saved me? That was freaking awesome. You rock for that. I'm glad that made us get closer, at least a little bit before you… before you…I- I love you, Mom. I hope there are ghosts in heaven for you to hunt."

Once again, he formed an ice rose and laid it at the foot of the grave, shifting to the next one. His face broke out into a haunted, weak smile. "Hey Jazz. You were the best sister in the world, and I'm sorry I didn't realize that until it was too late. Even though you were always overprotective and nagging, I realize now that you did that because you loved me. I wish I had returned that same love back to you too. I…I-"

Danny swallowed heavily, feeling tears build up in his eyes as he repressed the sobs. "I don't know what else to say. You always were better at these speeches than I ever was. Thanks for trying to help keep me safe and attempt to help out with the ghost hunting. I bet you're up in heaven right now, lecturing some angels on their psychological problems. Have fun up in heaven, Jazz."

He moved to the second to last gravestone. "Hey Tuck. You were my best friend, and I hope you know it. I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye. I'm sorry that you got dragged into this mess in the first place. Thanks for sticking by my side. Thank for making me laugh with your cheap shots at humor and failed attempts at getting a girl. I'm sorry that you'll never be able to go on a date with Star, now. I'm sorry that you'll never get that dream car or mansion or go to college and graduate from MIT and rub your degree in my face. I'll miss you, buddy. Take care."

At last, Danny came to the last gravestone after placing an ice flower in front of Tucker's grave. Tears were running silently down his face now, his form shaking slightly, as he laid his hands on the cool marble once again.

"Oh, Sam…I miss you. My heart feels like someone ripped it out of my chest and stomped on it with your combat boots. I'm so sorry I never got to say goodbye. I'm sorry I never got to tell you what you meant to me…" A sob rose in his chest, but he continued, voice breaking in raw emotion, "I should h-h-have been faster. I should have b-been stronger. I should have been there t-t-taking you to Prom instead of asking P-P-Paulina to go with me. I should have told you how I felt after the Freakshow incident. I- I-"

He sobbed freely now, tears splashing onto the grass as the force of what he had lost him like a train.

"I should have t-told you that I loved you."

Shaking, he raised a hand and scrubbed away the tears, unable to stop the hitching breaths. "I know you'd probably kick me where it hurts if you were here now, for giving up. I know you'd tell me to stop grieving and get my butt out there and help the town. It's just…I can't. Not anymore. Oh man, it-it just hurts too much. I'm so sorry. I hope you can forgive me for letting you die." He finished in a whisper. His ice blue eyes stared at the stones emptily, his blue gaze haunted and vacant. Those eyes had seen things no person should see. Those eyes had witnessed a horrendous crime that shocked him to the core. Those eyes, once so full of life and sparkle, now stared dully, tinged silver in the moonlight.

Slowly, Danny articulately formed the most beautiful rose yet, intertwining the ice with tendrils of glowing green energy. Cupping it tenderly in his hand, he gently placed it on the grass. It sparkled and shone like a diamond as a shaft of bright silver moonlight fell on it, reflecting green and blue hues everywhere. Danny's gaze dragged once more along the cemetery, settling on Sam's grave in front of him.

"Bye, Sam. I'll be back one day. I promise." Silently, he allowed the ring of glowing white energy to form, staring vacantly at the wide night sky as it split in two and traveled up and down his body, shifting his appearance to that of a white haired, green eyed fourteen year-old teenager in a ripped and shredded black and white jumpsuit.

"See you later, guys." He said quietly, and then floated off the ground, the dim white aura his body gave off slightly illuminating the graves before him. His heart felt heavy enough to drag him back to earth, but he forced his body to rise until, even with ghost vision, the cemetery was a patch of square, fenced in ground only an inch wide.

"Love you, always." Another hysterical sob rose in his throat and he took off into the night sky, heading aimlessly and without direction, the crisp October night air slowly drying the fresh tears still coursing down his face.

**So yeah, really really short, I know. The good news is I'll have the next chapter up on Friday, I promise, unless something comes up or whatever. If you're reviewing, tell me something you liked about this chapter or whatever. Even sending just a smiley face is good for me, because it shows that you guys actually care enough to show me that you're reading.**

**-Dreams2Paper11**


	3. Chapter 2

I'm sorry I lied! I said I would post this on Friday, but things came up and I was unable to meet that deadline. Plus, I have to go through this entire story and root out an OC I created, because she annoys me. The bad part is she was a major character, so I basically have to rewrite EVERYTHING after this point. Blech. So, updates might take a little longer, okay? Also, I don't think any of you had any questions, (for once, hahaha lol), so I'm just going to say, thanks to the people who were kind enough to actually review and drop me a line on their opinions. I mean, seriously guys. I looked at the hits number; eight hundred something, and then saw I had 9 reviews for last chapter. -.- I'm not sure if that's funny or just plain sad.

Shout out to those who read my other story, Haunted Memories- this chapter is coming pretty slowly. It's mainly a talk scene at the beginning, and I hate writing that kind of stuff. Anyway, IDOHPODP! (I Don't Own Harry Potter Or Danny Phantom!)

Chapter 2: **Present Day**

One year later, and fall had finally come to an end once again. The trees stood silent and bare, stripped of the magnificent fall cloaks, their gnarled branches like twisted fingers clawing at the sky. The air was like a living animal, biting cold and nipping the cheeks of anyone who ventured outside. A thick snow had fallen in the small town of Forks, Pennsylvania, and the streets were muffled and silent, darkness complete, with the moon's rays glittering only faintly upon the fresh, unbroken snow. The streetlamps were out, and even the stars and moon in the sky seemed coldly distant. Shadows lay everywhere, hiding squat patches of shrubbery nearly squashed under their tedious load of snow in front lawns.

An hour passed, then two, with no sign of movement on the lonely, winding country lane twisting itself through a large wood made up primarily of tall, wide oaks and thick undergrowth. Then, suddenly, a single screech split the air, shattering the late night tranquility as an old, faded blue pick-up truck spun around a corner in the mountain lane, its tires throwing up screens of snow. The vehicle raced down the lonely mountain road, the engine's deep roars rolling around the countryside, until the truck disappeared around a bend in the lane, screeching once again as its tires spun haphazardly.

With a startled whisper-yell, a teenager slipped out of the massive oak tree set back about nearly thirty feet from the road, deeply implanted in the forest. He clutched at his ears; eyes squeezed shut as he fell while the painful waves of sound barraged his ghostly super-hearing. He landed ungracefully on his back with a loud thud and winced painfully, breathing the cold, sharp air loudly. He muttered angrily to himself and rolled onto his knees, stretching his back and sighing as the tendrils of sleep cleared from his mind. He walked back to the tree slowly; cursing the driver that thought screeching around the roads at this ungodly hour was a fine idea. His footsteps fell soundlessly upon the fresh snow, not even managing to break the thin level of ice that covered the freezing ground, and his clothes did not swish upon contact with each other. An unnatural, graceful silence surrounded fifteen-year old Danny now, and wherever he went that silence seemed to pursue him. It was as if someone had aimed a remote at him and clicked the mute button.

He reached the Oak tree and swarmed gracefully up the trunk like a spider, finding foot and handholds in the seemingly smooth bark. Pulling himself up, he reached the spot he had been in before, and straddled the half-a-meter wide branch with his back, feeling whatever warmth left in him seep into the cold tree limb supporting him.

To be perfectly honest, Danny was actually grateful for that truck whizzing past. At least it had woken him from his terrifying nightmare. One would think that after months of having the same terrible dream over and over again, he or she would eventually get used to it.

But for Danny, every night was a living torture. Ever since the accident with the ghost portal, his dreams had been greatly enhanced and altered, all at the same time. They were in perfect clarity, his five senses tuned as perfectly as if he was awake. He was able to function and think clearly and maintain a steady conscious. Danny supposed it had to do with how a ghost remembered it's past life- usually, the only way they recalled it was from small flashes during their dreams. Those flashes were as clear and realistic as if they were actually happening, and usually were from their last moments when they were fully alive.

Since Danny was only half-ghost, however, his ghost and human consciousness had combined- his dreams were HD clarity, but they tended to twist beyond his control, taking a nightmarish event and worsening it further.

Every single night, every since the Nasty Burger incident, he had dreamed of Dan. Usually, he was there to taunt Danny while he watched his friends and family die before his very eyes in an explosion of fire, but this night had been…different, to say the least.

_Danny blinked awake, his haunted blue eyes fluttering open as he slowly sat up, placing his palms on the rough cement ground in order to provide more support. His black eyebrows frowned heavily- he was lying in the wreckage of an explosion. Bits of metal shrapnel still smoked from their careless, haphazardly placed positions on the pavement, their molten edges glowing orange. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, hissing in pain when shards of glass dug into his palms. The sky overhead was completely covered in dark thunderclouds, deeming it impossible to tell the time of day, and a fierce wind shrieked desolately and tugged at Danny's long hair. Jagged remnants and bits of glass littered the cracked roads, and all of the windows in the empty stores around him were broken or missing._

"_Hello, Danny."_

_The chilling dark voice echoed from behind him. Danny spun wildly, heart racing, eyes widening, drawing his hand back and curling the fingers into a fist as he saw- nothing. Absolutely nothing except the smoking remains of the restaurant. A deep chuckle resonated around him, swelling slowly into a roar before dying down. _

_Silence again._

"_Where are you?" Danny roared in rage, muscles tensing as he glared at nothing. His eyes flicked to the side as he caught a flicker of movement, and in the next second, he slammed down on the spot ten feet away, legs still bent from the lightning-fast jump, his fists cracking the concrete beneath him. The sinister and all-too familiar laugh sounded again, echoing eerily among the ruins. Danny clenched his right hand, ignoring the bright red and green blood now dripping down his knuckles._

"_Afraid of your own shadow, Danny?" The deep voice teased. _

"_WHERE ARE YOU, YOU COWARD? COME OUT AND FIGHT!" Danny thundered again, constantly spinning, eyes shifting impossibly fast. In the back of his mind, a small voice was whispering that provoking a fight was probably a very stupid idea, considering how he would certainly lose to this monster, but his blind rage made him thirst for vengeance._

"_Why would I fight myself?" The dark voice whispered slyly, and Danny whirled, facing an alley cloaked in deep darkness. He watched tensely as a tall and broad-shouldered figure materialized, the shadows knitting together like smoke until the creature had finished forming._

_Dan Phantom stepped from the darkness, bloody crimson eyes leering, red-stained fangs bared in a fearsome grin. "Hey Danny. Miss me?" His form drifted forward, tendrils of shadow spreading out along the ground and whispering over the pavement._

_He raised a muscled arm, clawed hands reaching towards Danny's heart when a sudden loud screech rent the air. Dan scowled and lunged forward angrily with a roar, pointed fingers outstretched towards him, but the world around Danny suddenly faded and dissolved into black… _

Danny's eyes popped open and he shivered, trying desperately to kick the images out of his mind. He drew his legs up and looped his muscled and scarred arms around them, staring at nothing. Why did this haunt him? Why did these nightmares refuse to fade, and only showed up to torment Danny? Why was it always Dan? Why was it always at the ruins of the Nasty Burger?

Why did they have to die?

He drew in a shuddering breath and called upon his ice core. Blue energy flickered into existence and fizzed around his hands, the dim, cold blue aura slowly spreading to his entire body. The snow resting on branches near him instantly solidified with a small crackling sound into ice, but Danny closed his eyes, retreating into the numbing sensation that had spread to his entire body. He had found a few weeks ago that calling upon his ice powers sort of…numbed him. The cold was bliss. Danny called upon the ice whenever he felt himself nearing a breakdown. The cold forced him to slow down, his thoughts to numb and settle, and think about something else. Lately, it was becoming harder and harder not to just freeze himself into an ice cube and sit in it for eternity.

An hour passed without him losing it and breaking down, and he slowly, calmly, allowed the temperature to rise. With a slight tingle, the coldness left him, retreating back into his body until further notice. Danny let out a pent-up breath and slumped against the broad trunk. His exhalations billowed out in front of him in misty clouds, and he spent a while just watching them drift up to the branches, quickly deteriorating.

Deteriorating.

Danny's eyes flashed open at the thought of his cousin, well, clone, Dani. Was she all right? Was her body stable? Where was she?

Had she heard about the …the explosion?

He facepalmed, growling at himself. Why was he worrying? As far as he was concerned, everyone from his past life was dead. Dead and gone. It was easier to think that they weren't alive anymore than keep entertaining the false belief that maybe everything would go back to normal, and someone- the Manson's or the Foley's- would take him in and make everything better.

Danny snorted at himself. He sounded like a pathetic child. Fourteen-year old, weak Danny Fenton was gone. He had grown up a lot in the past year, more than any fifteen- year old should have to.

But sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder if he was nothing but a shell of what he once was. He awkwardly rolled over, closing his eyes and reaching for the dark abyss of sleep.

For the first time in one year, Danny slept without a single dream.


End file.
